Alone
by Brain Chain
Summary: Because he was all alone. In a world where there were many who loved him, he was truly alone. Charectar death, suicide, language, centered on my OC. First Hetalia fic, and to my followers: I'M NOT DEAD!


A/N: I'M NOT DEAD!

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"…..No, I think I will go home now," The blond-haired boy said in his thoughtful tone as usual. His hands fiddled inside the jacket that matched the rest of his outfit; black with the same swirled pattern along the collar, sleeves, and trim, searching for the same inky, glass ball that was always there and clutched it worriedly.

"But don't you wanna come to the party Gettysburg?~" His eldest brother asked in a way that fit his nickname: The City of Brotherly Love.

"Let him go Gay-Ass! You know Tristen hates f*cking party!" His second eldest brother answered for him.

"But he might change his mind!~"

"Goddamn! How stupid are you?! HE'S NOT. F*CKING. COMING!"

"But Pittsburgh-"

"RETARD! He's _not. Coming!_"

At this point the hollow-looking male was out of earshot. He didn't like fighting. Or crowds. Or a lot of things.

But that was only one reason why he wasn't coming to the party.

He paced to his house. Once inside, he bolted down the steps of his basement and to the bookshelf. Scanning the spines of each collection of papers, his hand shot out to the slap of tree that read "Ghosts". It tilted back with a _click_, and the bookshelf slid to the side to reveal numerous pieces of different-sized shiny arms. He reached for one- a small pistol- and shoved into the pocket opposite his beloved black ball.

The stroll outside was very cautious, but casual none-the-less. Tristen didn't want anyone to see him tumble down the stone hole he would come across soon.

Sure enough, he does.

He plummets to the floor and slowly walks to a bench, each step sending his heart racing. As he plants his rear onto it, the air gains a thickness that nearly chokes him. How he wish it would.

The temperature drops dramatically, and he knows that _They_ are here.

"…..This is the Underground Railroad," his voice squeaks out, desperately trying to keep calm. Anything to prevent himself from taking out, or worse, the thing his stalkers force upon him.

His gloves grasp the round orb and shakingly bring it to his face.

"…This is my life.….My magic….It…..Protects me…" The tears he choked back were on the verge of falling. He was losing this fight, just as the Union was losing at one point.

He rose, then began to pace against the cement.

"….I am not going to do this. …..There are people out there that love me. …That care for me," Salty wetness befell his face.

"…..No one….No one would m-miss if I am g-gone th-though," he sniffled, "r-right?"

"_Tristen…."_

"GO AWAY!" The boy threw his arms on the wall, releasing the orb that luckily hit a patch of moss. His fists pounded ancient bricks, causing dust to fly everywhere and sending his lungs into a coughing fit. He fell to the floor, hugging his knees and _forcing_ his appendages to wrap around the little bones above his feet. No one understood what he was going through, except maybe New Orleans. She's so happy though, that it's hard to tell if the same thing was happening to her.

"….Why me?" He sobbed, "Why can they not **STOP**?!" At this point he was beyond words. Tristen's figures curled around the metal handle in the pocket and took out the small weapon.

"…You…..Are not going to do this….." The lethal item made its way to the side of his skull, positioned to kill.

Heart pounding and energy escaping in the form of quick, manic breaths, he responded to himself, "…This will not help anything…..You do not need…Need to….

…." _BANG!_

Blood seeped out of the hole in his head. His body lay still and lifeless on the cold floor.

…

Sunlight broke through the whole. His brown, ghostly eyes fluttered open, and the hole in his head was just a small scar compared to last night.

He looked around for a moment before remembering what had happened.

"…WHY CAN'T I STOP SUFFERING?! IT'S NOT FAIR!...It's not fair…..….." Lay there was all he did for the next several hours and cry.

Because he was all alone.

In a world where there were many who loved him, he was truly alone.

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Hello, this is my uh, first Hetalia fic. I hope you guys liked it, but you probably didn't. It is mine anyway. /shot/


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